


❝ three red roses

by usabuns



Category: DARLING In The FRANXX (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Descriptions of sex, F/M, Intimacy, Kissing, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Coital, Post-Coital Cuddling, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15041735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usabuns/pseuds/usabuns
Summary: a tender postcoital scene between kokoro and mitsuru——red roses symbolize passion, love, and romance(set somewhere between episodes 17 & 18)





	❝ three red roses

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this all within a few hours today because the mood hit me, and suddenly this was the only thing i wanted to write. 
> 
> there are probably a lot of typos since i only skimmed it for minor edits. enjoy, and leave feedback if you have any ♥️

The fabric of her nightgown crinkles as Kokoro poises it over her head, sliding it onto her sweaty, supple form. When the cloth smooths out, flattened by the palms of her hands, she pulls her soft, ashen locks out. They fall, cascading down the curve of her back, resting as their waves flow outward, unrestrained. 

It’d been early—almost immediately after dinner had ended—when Kokoro and Mitsuru retired to their room together. The sun had just begun to set, but Kokoro had been eager to try a third time, just to increase the chances of a child being conceived. They’d had sex again—Kokoro putting all of her effort into riding Mitsuru in the way the book had detailed (carefully recalling what’d she done the other times as well), leaving her thoroughly exhausted and hot by the end of it. 

For his part, Mitsuru is sore and high-strung (he’s certain he’ll still feel like this come tomorrow, too), now sitting on the edge of the lower bunk with his pajama shirt and underwear lazily thrown on. He‘d been gazing at Kokoro’s back as she’d gotten dress, neglecting to put on her panties and instead opting to fold them and set them down with the rest of her clothes. Now, she’s gently laying Mitsuru’s discarded uniform on the bed across from the bunk, next to her own dress, ready for when they would both don them tomorrow morning. 

”Do you want to open the window now?” His voice rings out a bit hoarsely, hesitantly, through the warm air of the dorm room. Since they were on the first floor, they hadn’t been able to open it earlier, for fear of disturbing the others who had still been outside at the time. After the couple rounds of sex they’d had, however, the moon had risen and they were all surely indoors by now. “It’s pretty stuffy in here...” 

The fact of the matter was that precoital and postcoital were both still very awkward times. More often than not, Mitsuru would look at her with a blush on his cheeks, unable to hold her gaze for long, and Kokoro would stare at him but with a loss at what to say. Maybe once they grew closer, and did this more frequently, it’d be less uncomfortable before and after, and they’d be less clumsy during the act itself— 

”Mmm. I’m a little hot still...” As Kokoro turns her body, she catches Mitsuru staring for just a tad longer than what would be considered normal. She stops for a split second, meeting his gaze and flashing a small smile (making Mitsuru turn his eyes away, but not without smiling back). When she reaches the window, Kokoro pushes the glass forward by the thin handles, and a light, chilly breeze blows through. “Ah, that’s better.” 

She twirls around on her bare heel, hands folded in front of her. “Is there anything you need, Mitsuru-kun? Maybe some water or—“ 

”—N-No, Kokoro-san, you’ve already done too much.” His head tilts in the direction of the neatly folded clothes; Kokoro follows his gaze, her brows creasing. 

”It’s nothing, really...” 

There’s a stark, stifled laugh from Mitsuru. “You’re unbelievable.” Kokoro’s eyes widen a fraction in confusion (softening slightly when she remembers the first time he’d said that to her), and then Mitsuru continues, “It’s so second-nature to you that you don’t even realize how thoughtful you’re being.” 

Kokoro shakes her head softly, moving her hands up to clasp over her chest. “Th-Thank you, but it’s really just something small.” A small giggle comes out of her mouth like steam piping out of a boiling teapot. Then her feet move for her, pattering along the wooden floorboards until she can seat herself next to Mitsuru. They’re pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, and Kokoro gently drops her head even closer—resting it on top of his shoulder. 

Mitsuru is distracted for a moment by her body heat (warming him up again), of the spark he still feels whenever she touches him. Her long, ashen blonde hair is smooth like silk against the crook of his exposed neck and collar. “—You’re thoughtful, too, you know, especially for helping me like this,” Kokoro says, pulling Mitsuru back into reality. 

He shifts slightly, grabbing one of Kokoro’s hands and pressing it against her stomach, thereafter resting his palm over the back of her hand. “I want a baby as much as you do. Helping you isn’t a burden to me, and it’s certainly not one-sided...” 

”Mitsuru-kun...” Kokoro’s voice turns into a whisper as she says his name, slowly retracting her hand. Mitsuru moves his away instantly, wincing. But then—Kokoro puts her hand back, pushing her palm harder, firmer, into her lower stomach. “Do you really think there will ever be a new life in here?” 

Mitsuru looks at it, then moves his gaze up to look at Kokoro’s face—all pale and with an anxious expression, lips pursed tightly, messy hair obscuring some of her forehead and eyes (free of her lacy headband). “We have to hope.” He stops for a moment, eyebrows creasing. He decides he’ll choose his words even more carefully, given her state. “One day, I’m sure there will be, Kokoro-san. And maybe—maybe there already is...” 

A gust blows through the open window again; they can both vaguely hear the leaves on the trees rustle. Kokoro tilts her body sideways, looking up at him with her rich blue eyes—which are glowing with fear. Kokoro’s lips part slightly, and Mitsuru swallows thickly. “I-I don’t mean that...” She tenses up, the beginnings of tears in the corners of her eyes before she quickly wipes them away. “I-I mean _them_ — Will we ever even have the chance if they...“ She goes silent. 

He doesn’t need to ask—he knows she means the Nines. With their interfering, any hope Kokoro had had about living a peaceful, happy future with Mitsuru and their child had been promptly squashed. The reality of their situation had set in: The reality of Papa and the other Adults controlling their every move, limiting them, using them only to pilot the FranXX and by extension, kill the Klaxosaurs that threatened _their_ way of living. 

But it’s no time for him to get worked up. Mitsuru turns himself to face her fully, hands reaching down to grasp her curvy hips. One moves up to cup her upper back, and then both pull her close, into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry about them now. You know we’d all do anything to keep them away, Kokoro-san.” She releases a deep breath, pulling at Mitsuru’s neck, cheek pressed against his. 

”...You’re right, it’s silly.” 

”How you feel is never silly.” It sounds like something she would say to him, and maybe she had in the past—during one of their many impromptu meetings in the greenhouse, surely. 

Kokoro is the first to pull back, face dusted pink and hands set in her lap. “It’s getting late, isn’t it, Mitsuru-kun?” 

”Mm, I guess it is...” Mitsuru watches as she crawls further onto the bed, grabbing a plump pillow and placing it against the wall. The blankets shift under him as she tugs them closer to her, then lining up the second pillow next to the first. “You’re not going to sleep yet?” There’s mild confusion in his voice. 

”I know we usually do that, but...” She taps her pointer fingers together, looking a tad bashful. “I wanted to stay up with you tonight, at least until we fall asleep.” Mitsuru stares at her for a few moments, blinking twice. The action makes Kokoro fumble with the edge of the sheets, and then wave her hands defensively. “Only i-if you want to—!” 

She falters and cuts herself off once she sees Mitsuru’s tiny half-grin. ”Of course I want to.” His voice is soft and quiet as he moves over to where she is—sliding next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him. Kokoro smiles back, grateful that she’s not the only one who wants to talk, to spend time together. 

Once he’s settled, Kokoro throws her arms around his chest, catching Mitsuru off-guard. She laughs, and scoots closer to him, until she’s partially on his lap. A burning heat rises to Mitsuru’s cheeks, especially when Kokoro rests her head under his chin, nuzzling him. When he looks down into her thick hair, he feels her hum against him, sending a shiver up his spine. His head is pounding. One arm falls lazily around Kokoro’s trim waist, rubbing her side up and down, and Mitsuru plants a quick kiss atop her head. 

The hand moves again, fingers pattering until they find Kokoro’s right thigh. He pinches it lightly, squishing the pillowy, smooth fat of her thighs, making Kokoro let out an abrupt, ditzy giggle. Even though the rough cotton of her nightgown shields her nude body, he can still vividly recall the sensation of her skin against him. Just earlier tonight (and two other nights before this one), when she’d been on top of him and bobbing up and down, her thick thighs had pounded into his legs, had squeezed his scrawny hips and left red marks that were still there, proof of her passion. 

”—Ehh, Mitsuru-kun, you really like my thighs, don’t you?” 

Mitsuru jumps a bit, startled after being pulled out of his thoughts, and lets out a soft yelp as his face reddens. He looks down at Kokoro, who had shifted and tilted her head up. There’s a cheeky little smirk on her face, thought not with bad intentions. 

”You’re always staring at them—“ 

”—I don’t!” He coughs, gripping the fabric at his neckline tightly and fanning in. Suddenly it’s hot and stuffy in here again... “They’re just nice, Kokoro-san.” 

”Mmm...” Another laugh under her breath, then she snuggles into him again. “You can keep touching them. It’s okay. I like it.” Kokoro’s plump breasts push against him, making Mitsuru huff in defeat. Like her thighs, they’re fluffy like pillows, but not firm—jiggling at even the slightest movement from either of them. 

”K-Kokoro-san...” It’s embarrassing but—he rests his hand on one of her soft thighs again, reluctantly, savoring the feeling. 

It really is strange: How little things like this would fluster them, yet they could face each other’s naked bodies nearly every night as they had sex, performing perhaps the most intimate of acts. But just cuddling made both of their faces light up crimson... 

The only thing separating Mitsuru’s back and the wall is the one pillow, even as Kokoro forces herself into him, therefore pushing him backward even further. Kokoro lifts herself off of him now, and Mitsuru takes his arms back, resting them at his sides. She begins to straddle him, knees firmly planted into the mattress on either side of Mitsuru’s legs. Then she leans in, cupping his jawline with her slender fingers and soft palms before leaning down for a chaste kiss. 

They stay like that for a while, Mitsuru running his hands through her wavy locks and Kokoro tapping her fingers along his chin—and then behind his ears, his nape, all the way down his back until the pressure between his body and the pillow prevents her from going further. There’s a freezing heat to her touch, to the padding of her tender fingertips tickling his skin. Their eyes are shut the whole time; they see through touch and feeling, carefully memorizing the shape of the other. 

They break away almost simultaneously, both of their eyes glazed over from passion and exhaustion. 

That’s when Mitsuru stifles a yawn. ”Let’s rest a little,” he suggests, already shooting her a drowsy smile. Kokoro nods in agreement with him, sliding away and allowing him to move. He stretches his arms up high above his head, until they angle once they reach the upper bunk’s bottom. 

As for Kokoro, she flops gracefully onto her stomach, letting out a long, bubbly yawn as she does so. “I’ll fall asleep soon...” She looks up at him, chin resting on her palms. “Come down here with me, Mitsuru-kun.” 

He sees the pleading look in her eyes, that undeniable sparkle—and lays himself down, back to the mattress, ignoring the stiff soreness of his back and thighs. Kokoro’s head is neatly poised over Mitsuru’s face, his hair brushing up gently against her bosom; she lowers herself marginally until their faces almost touch, but then Kokoro’s hands fall to his olive hair. 

She plays with the frayed ends, twirling the short locks around one finger. Mitsuru is utterly mesmerized, closing his eyes and letting her do as she pleases. The fabric of her pajamas crinkles against the top of his head, but the sound is soothing. So is the sound of Kokoro’s soft humming, lulling him almost into a trance—but not quite to sleep. Her fingers flit at his choppy bangs, stroking the smooth, fine hairs. 

Kokoro stops, and Mitsuru opens his eyes slowly, tilting his head backward to look her in the eye. A blush forms on her cheeks, very lightly, and she says, “Mitsuru-kun, I love you a lot.” 

But she doesn’t go down for another kiss. Instead, her palms find the baggy fabric at his chest, pressing flat against his slenderness. Delicate fingers trace the faint indents of his pectorals—reminding him of when she’d begun undressing him in the greenhouse weeks earlier, talking about how rough boys’ bodies were (compared to the softness of girls’ ones). 

Looking back at it now, she’d been right about that. And after that, Kokoro had explained everything to him, had apologized for her forcefulness and taught him how to create another human life—and those differences soon became clear. Those differences had a purpose. 

When Kokoro stops her tracing, letting her hands smooth themselves over his narrow chest, Mitsuru exhales and lifts his own hand up to caress her cheek. “...You already know, but... I love you too, Kokoro-san.” 

A smile dances on her lips, and her brows raise happily. As does one hand, pressing itself over Mitsuru’s knuckles. Kokoro tugs another small pillow close to them as Mitsuru relaxes, folding his hands on top of his stomach. 

Atop the pillow is Kokoro’s little doll—with the stumpy pigtails of brown hair at its back, and the cute little red dress with the white hem and thin pink bow. She rests it against the pillow, as if it were a real child, and sinks herself fully into the bed, cheek pressed against the mattress. 

”We’ll find happiness together,” she says through a sigh, before they both fade into slumber.


End file.
